Good for her.
He didn’t look up until she came to a nervous, skittish halt next to his table.
“I’m Grace,” she said with more resolve than he expected.
“I know who you are. And I know you took my picture a minute ago.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Oh.”
“Why’d you take my picture?”
“It’s a long story. But what it boils down to is I want to apologize for last night.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Okay.” She sat down across from him.
That wasn’t necessary either. He frowned.
She smiled brightly, pushing through her nerves. “Do you want to go on a picnic?”
“No.”
“Good. Neither do I. But we’re both about to be partnered up with people who do, so…hello, partner. Let’s dodge out of things together. Officially.”
“Officially?”
“Unofficially, we’ll go our separate ways as soon as humanly possible.”
Frank was used to a lot of weird shit. The navy was super political once you got to a certain rank. He had batshit insane neighbors who had rules for maintaining the so-called “character” of Coronado Beach. Bianca’s family had driven him nuts with expectations for reunions and holidays.
But he didn’t know what to make of this woman. This…Grace.
She’d annoyed him on the bus and at registration. Canoli Girl didn’t like military types, and that was before she’d crawled into his bed and sent him spiralling hard into grief again.
That’s not on her. No, it wasn’t.
But three strikes and you’re out, lady.
“Listen,” she whispered, leaning in. “I, uh… The thing is—”
“Excuse me,” another woman said, stopping beside their table and interrupting Grace. “You look like a man who knows his way around a canoe.”
Swift boats were more his speed, but he could probably do anything with a paddle. “I’m afraid of water,” he heard himself saying. Great, sixteen hours into camping and he was already a liar.
The woman didn’t care. “How about lunch, then?”
She was pretty. Dark-haired like Bianca, curvy in all the right places. Also like Bianca. Tall, like—
“He has a picnic partner already,” Grace said before taking a loud sip of coffee. She stared, unblinking, at the other woman until she turned and left.
“I do?” Frank asked her, feeling gruff and out of sorts.
Grace rolled her eyes. “Not really. Focus. I’m here to be whatever kind of beard you need.”
“I don’t need a beard. I handled that just fine.” He frowned. “Didn’t I?”
“You had a lost look on your face and spent four seconds too long checking out her cleavage. She was going to hook you somewhere along the way.”
